


on a wednesday, in a café

by fakeheaux



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 06:52:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11076297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakeheaux/pseuds/fakeheaux
Summary: "I like your glasses."or niall is nosy and zayn speaks urdu in coffee shops





	on a wednesday, in a café

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompt "you and your friend always sit at the table a couple down from mine and gossip in [insert language here], which happens to be a language i’m currently learning. i’ve been eavesdropping to try and improve my listening comprehension and oh my god are you actually talking about how hot i am???" by authorkurikuri on tumblr
> 
> general setup for the coffee shop would be central perk from friends because i am Unoriginal
> 
> google searches for this include 'how to say wow he's hot in urdu but in english transcript' so that should tell you how not prepared i am for this

Niall thanks Harry as he places his coffee on the table in front of him. The mug is huge, almost too big for Niall's hands, but it's okay, because Niall is definitely going to need this much caffeine to get him through the day. It's barely nine and he's off from work, but he's already dead on his feet.

He takes a sip as he starts up his laptop, figuring he might as well work on some coursework while he's got the chance. He barely glances up when two people sit at the table by his. He's adjusting his glasses when he hears them begin to speak in Urdu. Ears perking, he sneaks a look at them.

It's two unbelievably gorgeous people, looking similar enough that they _have_ to be related, sitting in designer clothes and with their hair and makeup perfectly done. Niall, breathless, can't help but feel a bit underdressed in an old fleece jumper and jeans. He quickly looks back to his computer screen when Harry comes by to take their order. Steadying his breath, he focuses himself on his work.

It's not been ten minutes when he realizes, _wait_ , they're speaking in _Urdu_. Niall knows Urdu, relatively. He's been taking night classes to lean Urdu. He's actually quite good at speaking Urdu. He's also quite awful at _listening_  to Urdu.

As soon as he comes to the realization that while yes, he's become quite fluent in the way a three year old is fluent, he continues to fail his practicals because he's just so shite at understanding Urdu when it's being spoken to him, he comes up with a plan. He'll listen in, barely, just to strengthen his listening comprehension. Once the conversation becomes too personal, too crossing-the-line-definitely-being-rude type of thing, he will stop and focus one hundred percent on his work.

As he's listening, Harry stops by more than once to check on his coffee which, due to the unreasonably large size of the mug, is still not finished and _no, Harry, I don't need to be topped off, thank you._

He's just finishing up a lab report introduction when he hears the first word he really recognizes, like actually understands what it means and how it fits into the conversation. _Jaan_ , the girl said. If Niall's actually been listening correctly, it's just a pet name, and not part of a more general question or statement. Niall smiles to himself, proud, and takes a sip of his coffee. Maybe he'll sign up for the 102 class after all.

Another couple minutes pass, enough so that Niall's discomfort at his blatant eavesdropping fades away. He's given up on coursework and has opened up a word document, trying to type out the conversation he's listening to as quickly as they speak. It's hard, as his Urdu is still quite spotty, but he's got a rough little script going so far. He's not really paying attention to what they're saying, per se, more focused on getting the sentences down translated to English, so he's not really focusing when he hears  _pyara_ in a hushed voice. His fingers stall after he's typed the sentence, quiet giggling coming from beside him.

Eyes narrowing, Niall leans forward, rereading what he's just typed. _The boy blank blank cute._ Niall sits back. Figures. They would fall in love with Harry only minutes after meeting him. Curious, he sneaks a glance at the pair again. The boy - the very good looking boy, mind - meets his gaze and, turning a furious shade of red, snatches his mug up and takes a deep swallow.

When he's set his mug down once more - Niall hears the porcelain clink against the wooden table - he whispers something, rushed and somewhat embarrassed sounding, if Niall's right. He barely catches the translation, fingers flying over his keyboard.

_blank looked right blank me_

Brows raised, Niall sinks lower into his seat, wanting to fade into the cushions. He's been made, he knows it, they're going to come over at any second and yell at him, why did he think this was a good idea - 

"Niall?" Harry asks, startling him. Niall jumps, knees banging into the underside of the table with enough force to send his mug teetering off the side. Harry, used to flying dishes, catches it before it can hit the ground. Wincing, Niall straightens up again.

"Yes, Haz?" he answers, running a hand through his hair. His cheeks are burning, half the café staring at the source of the commotion he's just made. Including the cute boy.

Niall could just die.

"Um," Harry glances at Niall's fidgeting hands - now strangling a napkin - and back up to his face. "Was just wondering if you needed a refill, but I think you might have had enough." His mouth quirks up at the sides, and he plops down next to Niall, bouncing on the cushioned bench. "What're you up to?" He slides the laptop closer to him before Niall can protest, and reads through the document, brows pulling closer together the further through he gets. "Um."

Laughing nervously, Niall sticks a finger between his teeth and starts chewing on the nail. "Was thinking about writing a film, actually."

Harry sends him a worried look. "You sure have got a lot of _blanks_ for a bit of dialogue this big, Ni," he says cautiously.

"Uh, yeah," Niall nods. "Yeah, you know, I was hoping it would come to me easily, but clearly film writing just...isn't my calling. I, uh, I better stick to astrophysics, right?" He chuckles awkwardly, the sound dying out when Harry just stares at him.

"I gotta get back to work," he says slowly, standing. He goes to set the rescued mug back on the table, but hesitates, glancing at the laptop again. After a second, he clutches the mug to his chest and scuttles away.

Niall scoffs, running his hands over his face. He knocks his glasses askew, and sighs when he has to set them straight. Sighing again, he rest his elbow on the table, propping his head up by mashing his face into his hand.

Without really meaning to, he tunes back in to the pair's conversation, typing idly the words he can catch and translate fast enough. His hand hovers over the keyboard when he heard _aynark_. Glasses. They're talking about a cute boy, with glasses. Squinting, Niall tentatively scrolls back up to read through the last dozen lines.

_the boy blank blank cute_

_maybe blank blank dinner(?) you_

_no blank i won't blank weird_

_blank looked right blank me_

_he is blank next(maybe) us_

_his face is red_

_blank cute when a boy gets blank_

_ask him blank so you can blank his glasses blank blank cuter than yours_

Niall pauses, fingers freezing on the mousepad. Unable to help it, his lips curl into a grin. Laughing incredulously, he buries his face in his hand, the other pushing through his hair. He shakes his head, because it can't be him they're talking about. It _can't_ be.

It hasn't even been a full hour in damn coffee shop and he's already becoming delusional.

Glancing over at the pair - who quickly avert their own gazes by hiding behind their mugs - Niall raises his hand, grabbing Harry's attention. He comes right over, abandoning the table he'd been cleaning, and sits back down in the same spot as earlier.

"What's up?" he asks, sending a furtive glance at the laptop. Niall laughs and types out a quick sentence, gesturing for Harry to read it.

Brows furrowed, he does.

_i think the fit boy over there might be talking about me_

"Um, Niall, I don't think -"

"Shh, are you crazy?" Niall points at the laptop. "Christ."

Sighing, Harry types out a painstakingly slow response. When he's finally finished, he pushes the laptop at Niall and pulls at his lip.

_its not nice to talk about people without them knowing. this is for YOU_ _and THEN_ _to know_

Ignoring Harry's questionable grammar, Niall types his answer.

_nevr mind that should i ask him out_

Harry chews on his lip, chin in his hand. "You know -"

"Haz!" Niall barks.

"Fine," he whines. Grumbling, he pulls the laptop to himself and types. Niall can't help but roll his eyes at him and how he types like he talks: slow enough to make you want to pull out an eyebrow. The whole thing. All at once.

He pushes the laptop back.

_what if he was just admiring the view. might not be gay_

_worth a shot though innit_

_definitely_

Grinning, Niall thanks Harry, sending him off with his enough cash to pay off his coffee and a hefty tip (even though the one thing Harry has no trouble with is generating tips) for being such a good mate. He closes out of the word document without saving it and shuts down his computer, figuring he could ask the cute boy out and, if denied, use the excuse that he was leaving anyway to make a hasty escape.

He takes a deep breath and turns to the other table.

The other table that is empty.

Gaping, Niall glances around the café in search of them, and sees the cute boy holding the door open for his - hopefully - sister as they leave. Grimacing, Niall scrambles to put all his stuff away in his bag and rushes over, catching up to them just as the door is closing behind them. He pull it open and turns to follow them.

"Hey," he calls, and places a hand on the boy's shoulder. He turns, and Niall almost freezes up, he's so good looking. He clears his throat and smiles, holding out a hand. "I'm Niall."

Cautious, the boy takes it. "Zayn. What's up?"

"Um," Niall laughs nervously. "So, uh, I'm taking classes over at Queen Mary's -"

"Me too," says the boy, _Zayn_ , smiling.

Niall laughs again, running a hand through his hair. "Right, um, so I signed up for these night classes, right, to learn, um, don't hate me, but like, it's Urdu, yeah, and um," Niall's cheeks start to burn as Zayn's eyes widen in realization, "I'm not very good at listening to it, so when I heard you and your um, sister?" Zayn nods, speechless. "Oh, thank god, um, sorry. When I heard you and your sister talking I thought, maybe I should listen, to get better, which I know is _so_ rude, I'm sorry for that, but I did it, and I heard you call me cute, I think? So I was just wondering if maybe you'd like to go out for dinner sometime? Or, uh, coffee?" He points to the storefront beside them, laughing awkwardly.

Zayn stays silent for a second, mouth open in shock, and Niall mentally prepares himself for the biggest tongue lashing he's ever received from a stranger, until Zayn starts laughing. He laughs, and buries his face in his hands (tattooed quite prettily, even if Niall would never get one for himself).

"Oh, god," Zayn groans, and he looks up, cheeks flushed. "That's just - that's great, that you were able to understand, I guess, um." He laughs again, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, yeah, I'd love to have dinner with you. Or coffee, whichever." He grins nervously, shaking his head. "Um, I can give you my number?"

"Yeah," Niall scrambles to pull his phone out, and unlocks it before handing it to Zayn. He waits nervously, chewing on his nails, as he programs his number in. When he hands the phone back, their hands meet, and they freeze, staring down at them, until a sharp voice calls out.

"Zayn, hurry up!"

They jerk apart, glancing over to the voice. It's his sister, waiting by a car parked at the curb.

"I'm coming, Doniya," Zayn calls. His looks back to Niall, smiling softly. "Text me, yeah?"

Niall nods. "I will."

Nodding, Zayn wanders away. He turns when he's a few paces away from his sister, now in the car, walking backwards. "Hey, Niall?"

He glances up at Zayn, who says something quickly in Urdu before turning again and joining his sister in the car.

Niall grins, giddy. He makes his way back to his flat, replaying the sentence in his head over and over.

_I like your glasses._

**Author's Note:**

> i forgot! title from begin again by taylor swift aaand i will take prompts if you want more bad writing from me at fourgoddesses on tumblr :)))


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